


Private Offer

by goldenteaset



Category: Black Cat (Anime & Manga)
Genre: (So he believes), Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Because Train is totally just doing this just to keep Creed in his sights, Begging, Casual Sex, Enemy Lovers, Hotels, M/M, Mid-Canon, Mildly Dubious Consent, Partners to Enemies, Pining, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:14:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24204244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenteaset/pseuds/goldenteaset
Summary: "It’s a secret arrangement of theirs—Creed pays for the various hotel rooms, Train checks in, and they spend an hour or two putting that money to good use. Call it a coping mechanism: a way to pretend that terrible, partnership-breaking night never happened for a few dreamlike moments.A way to postpone Train having to draw his gun."Set during the sixth-month timeskip between episodes 7 and 8.
Relationships: Creed Diskenth/Train Heartnet
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	Private Offer

**Author's Note:**

> I've been rewatching Black Cat lately, and as impossible as this setup is, I'd like to think Creed and Train interacted at _some_ point during the timeskip. There's too much emphasis on their connected-ness for them not to have! 
> 
> (At some point I'd like to write something longer for these two, but I need to finish my rewatch first. ^^;)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Black Cat.

It’s a secret arrangement of theirs—Creed pays for the various hotel rooms, Train checks in, and they spend an hour or two putting that money to good use. Call it a coping mechanism: a way to pretend that terrible, partnership-breaking night never happened for a few dreamlike moments.

A way to postpone Train having to draw his gun. 

(Sven and Eve ask questions about where Train goes, but he just grins. He's getting used to that, these days; a quick baring of teeth at the right moment to reassure the first friends he's ever had.)

And here Creed and Train are in another hotel room, pretending once again.

Creed's hips swing slightly as he moves—not swaying like a pendulum, but not quite strutting, either. A smooth, dancelike in-between. Truly, he was made for the stage; in another life he might have been happier there. 

But he doesn't deserve that sympathy now.

Train knows what those hips are capable of, knows how inviting they look, but he keeps his mouth shut. He leans against the door, gold eyes half-lidded, taking in Creed’s silver hair—he’s grown it out.

Creed turns, and his thighs brush against each other.

“Shall I get the candles?” he asks coyly, blue eyes akin to sapphire glittering in the afternoon sun. 

“No.”

\---

Creed always moves closer to Train—never the other way around. He lets Train do what he wants when they’re together. Whether it's with Creed feasting between his legs or astride his hips, riding him until his back aches, or delving into Train so slowly he can feel every white-hot inch of him, Creed wants to make sure that Train knows _every_ “Black Cat-specific plus” in regards to joining The Apostles of the Star. And each time he whispers praise as if to a god in the flesh. 

Train pretends he doesn’t care, but he knows that acting that way adds fuel to the fire. 

They didn’t even reach the bed this time—Creed just sank to his knees and crawled to him as soon as the door locked behind him. And now...

“Oh, Train, you’re _magnificent_ ,” Creed moans, nuzzling his wet cheek tenderly against Train’s shaft as it trembles and twitches in the aftershocks. “Can you go another round? Surely you can.” He looks up at Train from beneath his lashes, those elegant fingers of his already running Train's over-sensitive flesh like a musician playing piano. “ _Please_ , my darling, you know how I hate to beg!”

 _Liar._ Train gives Creed his best disdainful look and pulls his hand away. “Then you’re going to do a lot of that today.” Call it a ham-fisted attempt at a reward.

The delighted smile that graces Creed’s lips is almost painful in its honesty. But unfortunately, Creed has never lied to Train once. Not even on that night, when their partnership tore apart. 

\---

Train stares as Creed redresses, the marks on his body easily covered by his black attire.

Unsurprisingly, his shirt is open at his chest, with only a few crisscrossing straps of fabric to give him a flimsy appearance of modesty. However, one red mark is clearly visible just below his stomach. It’s from last time, and it shouldn’t remain there after so many weeks—that is, unless Creed ensured it stayed.

Creed looks at him and smiles, resting one hand on the head of the bed. “You’re not going to join the Apostles of the Star today, are you.” He treats Train’s refusal as a parlor trick.

“No.” Train gets up and pulls on his clothes, walking out the door.

\---

Train walks into the room where Creed waits quietly, hands on his hips, tapping his fingers lightly against the soft fabric to the flesh beneath.

“This will be the last time, Train,” Creed says, his voice barely above a whisper.

Train stops short. “What?”

“This is the last time I’ll extend my offer in private.”

\---

Train watches as Creed’s eyes flutter closed dramatically.

He can feel the thick bones underneath Creed’s skin as he presses his fingers to his hips. He can feel the blood that courses through Creed’s veins, every buck and rock of Creed’s smooth thighs sliding against his palms. Creed’s skin is salty and slick already, especially as Train laps his tongue against his hardening shaft. 

“Please, Train, _please_ ,” Creed moans, his broad chest swelling as he sucks in a desperate breath. “Not so fast!” He writhes in delight with each slow lick. “At this rate...your beauty and power will u-undo me in moments. I want you to savor me, just as I have you…!”

He knows full well that Creed wants to make their last “private offer” special, but he’s not in the mood. Too many memories are rising to the surface, now that he can’t pretend he forgot. There’s no way he _could_ forget—not after what Creed did to Saya.

Not after Train arrived too late.

“ _Must_ you overthink so much, Train?” Creed grumbles, his fingers threading through Train’s thick shock of hair and forcing his head up. “You know how I _loathe_ seeing you miserable…”

Train grunts in surprise as Creed rolls him onto his back, the mattress shuddering under their combined weight. “You know what will happen when we meet again,” he growls, fighting back a shiver at the familiar touch of Creed’s fingers on his chest.

“Perhaps.” Creed’s smile tickles his neck as he angles their hips together, making Train feel naked even with black cotton briefs in the way. “I’ll stay optimistic, though…” The sensual roll of his hips is hot enough to melt Hades down to scrap metal. “…And I don’t mind bleeding out for you before you stay at my side, my darling Train.” 

It’s almost funny. If Creed hadn’t been jealous on that particular night, hadn’t let Train know what he was planning…Train might have gone with him. But since he made that choice, now he has to sweat and strain to regain the trust of his beloved partner. And yet he doesn’t seem to mind at all.

Train sighs and wraps his arms around Creed’s back, allowing himself to be lost in the sweat and heat. _Maybe one day I’ll understand him._ Someone _has to, before all this ends._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :D Feedback is appreciated.


End file.
